


stand and deliver

by semilunars



Category: Sdorica: Sunset (Video Game)
Genre: Beta Read, Canon Divergence, Character Study, First Time, Gen, Give Elio Ceres A Fucking Break 2020, Masturbation, Stress Relief, Trans Male Character, What Have I Done, What Was I Thinking?, elio: YEAH WELL life can't fuck me if i fuck myself first -server at the entrance (2020), someone: i dont need to get fucked if life fucks me ;)
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-03-13
Updated: 2020-03-13
Packaged: 2021-03-01 04:35:40
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,586
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/23039449
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/semilunars/pseuds/semilunars
Summary: He's heard hushed whispers from both juniors and seniors about it. He's not clueless enough to erroneously guess his fathers' last resorts for blowing off steam after a long day of teaching and grading.Fine.It's human nature,he reasons to himself. He can do this.
Relationships: Minor or Background Relationship(s)
Comments: 8
Kudos: 10





	stand and deliver

**Author's Note:**

> beta read by [rusty](https://archiveofourown.org/users/BananaSins)!! thank you so much
> 
> one day i _will_ establish a proper fic collab instead of letting my team comp of three brain cells loose and getting too carried away. this is, formally, my first nsfw fic and i was honestly expecting a bigger fuck up compared to what i wrote lmao... i hope i didn't butcher it (and the disaster magic gang) too much :')
> 
> happy white day, everyone, your hands better be cleaner than this sun-forsaken character study fic

One hand held a fountain pen, skimming over the list of things to accomplish for the current week and the one after that; the other rubbed his aching temples.

Exhausted doesn’t begin to explain Elio’s current condition. In fact, in the immortal lines of Morris, he was “absolutely fucking burnt-out.”

First off, the long quiz that Professor Patrick scheduled for the day after tomorrow, which tackled advanced Soul Energy studies. Once that’s out of the way, a practical exam would follow the week after…

No. He shook his head when he realized that his memory was starting to fail him. The practical exam was rescheduled for _the day after the quiz,_ not next week, due to time restraints from the professor’s own predicaments. So far yet so close, as Elio had yet to master the topic at hand.

Second, a research paper on Rune creatures, an assignment for a class held by Barbara Balzac. While she was only a part-time professor, she taught her Life Magic classes with the demeanor and proficiency one would expect from a full-timer. If he remembered correctly, Morris and Charle even asked if she considered teaching full-time, but she said she had other endeavors to take care of.

In addition to that, she was formerly taught by both fathers, and would even be open for consultations regarding Morris' discarded notes (Elio kept them with him) whenever she had the time. To not accomplish the paper and get a passing mark felt like it would equate to disrespect towards her and the duo.

Third, an assignment which served as a collaboration between students from both Applied Magic and Life Magic. One of his group-mates was Tica, who had an errand to address tomorrow morning. While she _did_ finish her contribution beforehand, Elio and another Applied Magic student noticed that Tica overlooked some parts that could jeopardize their group work. He was left with no choice but to read up on what she was missing and polish her contribution.

Fourth, some material gathering with Clark within the upcoming weekend. That’s the third time a Rune Camera experiment broke down this month, and with exams on the way, it demotivated Clark even more. He thought the downtrodden mechanic could use a major motivational push for the meantime.

Last— well, not exactly the last, and definitely not the least— was his personal agenda. He promised himself that he’d find time to read up on the history of the Feather Tribe and the Carlos bloodline, to gather pieces for the puzzle that he’s been trying to solve for so long.

The list goes on, and on, and on… one glimpse at the clock by his desk, and the shorter hand’s already at the eleven o’clock mark. The perfect time to remember that his classes start at seven in the morning tomorrow.

Elio sighed. _Just fantastic._

Plot twist: he can’t sleep. His next class is just hours away, his head is still slightly aching, but _he can’t sleep._

The general stress, the overthinking, the nervousness for what’s to come ate away at his weariness, did the exact opposite of what he wished it would do.

And suddenly, a solution came to mind. An unsolicited one, however.

Elio wasn’t one for concupiscence, but in that moment, he grows curious about fingers caressing his lips, trailing down to his neck and torso and legs before finally— before finally settling—

He groaned into a pillow. What in Vendacti’s name was he thinking?

He's heard hushed whispers from both juniors and seniors about it. He's not clueless enough to erroneously guess his fathers' last resorts for blowing off steam after a long day of teaching and grading.

_Fine._

A deep breath. _It's human nature,_ he reasons to himself. He can do this.

A near-empty bottle of lubricant (hopefully no one figures out how he obtained it), check.

A laid-out towel for when it got messy, check.

Trimmed fingernails, check.

His room, locked and devoid of light, check.

Peace, quiet, and the desire to get it over with and go to bed. _Big_ check.

His sleep pants were already discarded, top opened so he could accomplish the teasing touches his body longed for minutes ago.

He used to stay at the dorms of the Academy some time ago, but as enrollees increased, Charle and Morris decided to make arrangements and let Elio have his own quarters nearby Morris’ laboratory. In all honesty, he was relieved— between having to wait for fellow roommates to settle down (regardless of their surprising knowledge and interest in matters of sexuality) and ensuring his fathers were too busy with academic matters to retreat to their own chamber, the latter sounded like the option with less risks.

Elio screamed internally as lubricant trickled down his fingers. He couldn’t believe he was about to do this.

Struggling to keep a sound mind is one thing. Having his train of thought interrupted by the feeling of fingers tracing his core is another. And for someone who was seen as one of the more virginal among his fellow peers, it didn’t take Elio long to yearn even more after a few minutes’ worth of his own touch.

Maybe, after everything is said and done, his peers (Sun forbid they find out) would probably think: did he feel disgusted?

At this point in time, embarrassment would reign supreme. During Elio’s first attempt to touch himself (which was... oh, he doesn’t know, from three weeks ago, maybe a month?), the self-consciousness kicked in and he backed out. But there he is, beginning to hum in contentment as a response to his own actions, wildly contrasting that abandoned attempt.

Admittedly, he’d probably be embarrassed with himself once all is said and done.

But for now, he wasn’t.

That’s right. He’s not. He _shouldn’t_ be, actually— it’s mere relief. Self-care. Human nature. Elio no longer saw the point of backing out of it.

He lifted his knees a bit so he can spread his legs a bit wider, leaving more room for his hand. This was for him, _for him,_ and nobody else. In this corner of the world, he was on top. Stress can come and find him, follow him to the ends of the world, but not here. Even if it’s just in his bed.

And there he goes— fingers going up so they’re circling his cock, before moving back down once again. Then he retreats, feathering touches tickling his inner thigh…

Elio would never admit it to anyone’s face, but he’d be lying if he said he wasn’t beginning to enjoy it.

In fact, that won’t do at all.

He goes back and slowly eases a finger past the lower lips, moving it in between, but not enough to penetrate.

Being able to touch himself like so, it felt… slightly odd. But that ebbed away soon enough. He continued to move it back and forth before it started feeling _oh so much better,_ and Elio tried— and failed— to stifle a louder moan at that.

For once, he could thank the Sun his fathers were busy. With how aroused he currently was, the only being left to corner him is himself.

He leans in further onto his head pillows, now panting lightly, trying to keep his moans as soft as possible; he’s moving his finger in a series of motions, palm rubbing his cock every now and then, hips moving experimentally _and then out of pure instinct_ , and it’s just insufferable, each action just brings him closer and closer and closer to the edge—

“Oh… oh, _god—_ ”

—and _then_ he pulled his hand away.

 _It’s not enough._ Fingers aren’t enough. Out of instinct, he reached for some spare pillows on the side and placed them below him in a way that will let the topmost pillow press against him-- and he sighed in relief when the sensation hit. Once he was fully comfortable, he began to buck himself onto it with reckless abandon, hips soon moving at a sloppier pace, gasps and moans growing more and more frequent to the point where he buries his face in a pillow to stifle the noises until— _until—_

Elio softly gasped as he came, his body slightly quivering as he pressed himself further onto the pillow. He continued to make slow and steady bucks, small and shaky noises escaping his lips while he chased down the rest of his orgasm.

By the time he’s calmed down, he lies on his back and puts the pillows away, satisfied and spent.

The room was silent, save for his breathing, growing slower and more silent as the night passed by. He opened a nearby drawer and grabbed a few tissues so he could clean himself and his hand, which was damp with arousal.

Elio was about to settle down when his hand brushed across the damp part of one pillow— the very part where his core once rested.

_Oh._

Mildly flustered, he walked over to another drawer, retrieving a fresh, untainted pillow cover. With his current workload, he won’t be able to take care of the laundry immediately, so all he can do is bury it in the pile and hope that no one would notice.

For now, he must finish tidying up and dress himself.

Elio rested soundly afterwards, something he hasn’t done in weeks.

(Elio barely makes it to class in time the morning after, and Morris, now ever-knowing with regard to the bottle Charle accidentally dropped, struggles between avoiding eye contact and stifling a laugh.)

**Author's Note:**

> we owe charle an apology. we know.


End file.
